Breaking Free of the Seinfeld Paradigm
Why should philosophers break free of what I have called “the Seinfeld paradigm”? In this section, I explore the pitfalls of basing our accounts of collective responsibility on analyses of cases fitting the Seinfeld mold.
I begin with a brief review of Held’s influential account of responsibility for collective inaction. Next, I consider what we inevitably miss when our focus is narrowed to fictional thought experiments of this type.Recall that, on Held’s account, a random collection of individuals can only be held responsible for failing to act collectively “when the action called for in a given situation is obvious to the reasonable person and when the expected outcome of the action is clearly favorable” (Held 1970: 476). Writing in 1970, Held anticipates much future conversation when she remarks, in passing, on the possible implications of her view for “political situations”:
If a reasonable person judges that the overthrow of an existing political system is an action that is obviously called for, he may perhaps consider himself morally responsible for the failure of the random collection of which he is a member to perform this action. If he thinks some action to change an existing political system is obviously called for, but is not clear about which action, he may consider himself morally responsible for the failure of the random collection of which he is a member to perform the quite different action of transforming itself into a group capable of arriving at decisions on such questions.
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A provocative example, to be sure. Revolutionary fervor aside, though, Held seems to be making a bid for theoretical simplicity and parsimony here. Having based her account on an analysis of a handful of relatively simple coordinated bystander cases, she seems to be suggesting that we can simply scale up to far more complex situations from there.
Perhaps, then, we need rely on only a single set of tools when grappling with collective action problems of all sorts.Held’s gambit has more recently been taken up by Tracy Isaacs. Whereas Held starts with a case involving a strangler on the subway, Isaacs draws our attention to a group of children rafting down a river (Isaacs 2011: 243). Suddenly caught in rapids, hurtling helplessly toward a waterfall, the children will surely be killed if a random collection of onlookers does not join forces to intervene. Isaacs utilizes this thought experiment to argue that even a group of complete strangers can presently have a collective obligation to come to the aid of others, at least in situations where there is “a clear map between the situation, the required course of [collective] action and a collective agent” (ibid. 143). Scaling up to the question of what our current responsibilities are with respect to such complex problems as climate change, Isaacs argues that the members of a loosely structured group are collectively responsible for coming together and acting when—and only when—a collective action solution has, as she puts it, “come into focus” (ibid. 152). Harking back to Held’s passing remarks, Isaacs suggests that the collective obligation to implement a given solution “exists in virtue of the clarity, by the standard of the reasonable person, of the collective action required” (ibid. 148). Hence, “Where there is a lack of clarity at the collective level, what is lacking is a clear picture of what collective course of action would effectively address the moral concern” (ibid.).
How often is this knowledge condition met?7 I suspect it is met only rarely, in relation to a very specific set of problems. To see this, consider a revised version of Larry David’s thought experiment. I call it “The Inverted Finale” because it features a case lacking all the distinguishing features of the Seinfeld paradigm.8 My version invites us to imagine: What would happen if Held’s knowledge condition were incorporated into our practices of holding ourselves and others accountable? Whose collective inaction would be excused and, with time, taken for granted?
Here is how the revised thought experiment unfolds: Jerry and friends are hanging out in front of a Manhattan diner.
On a daily basis, and in full view and hearing of one another, they have each been participating in a variety of social practices that rely on energy-intensive, fossil-fuel dependent cycles of extraction, production, consumption, and waste (e.g., eating animal products, heating and cooling their spacious apartments, commuting in cars, and more). Although each of the four aims to cause as little suffering and death as possible, they know they are deeply implicated in situations they repudiate. Simply by living, eating, and throwing things away in a major U.S. city, they are caught up in broader systemic processes which they know are causing significant, ongoing harms to ecosystems and lives both near and far, and which are clearly unsustainable in the long run. They are aware of the many ways they benefit from the oppression of others and are also deeply damaged by the interlocking systems they play a role, however small, in reproducing. They understand that they, too, are being killed by those systems, however much more softly—that they, too, are neither the totally helpless “victims” of systemic outcomes, nor are they merely “standing by,” unaffected and affecting none. Given their collective involvement in the ecological and social problems that keep them awake at night, they could hardly consider themselves “inactive.” Simply by going with the flow, they are actively sustaining what they know to be unsustainable.Noticing the weary expressions on his friends’ faces, Kramer captures the moment on his camcorder. Meanwhile, Jerry, Elaine, and George crack self-deprecating jokes, debating who would be the first to be killed on The Walking Dead. Newman, Jerry’s mail carrier, is every bit as aware as the others that his attempts at “ethical consumption” make little difference. He, too, has come to realize that there is no single, definitive collective action participation in which they could “solve” their shared predicament. Joining organized, long-term efforts to bring about systemic change would require significant commitment and could also involve a measure of risk and sacrifice.
Even so, Newman feels frustrated that the New York Four are telling jokes while the world burns—frustrated enough to share his plight with a cop walking the beat. Confused, the cop looks Newman square in the eye: “What do you mean, ‘they aren’t doing anything’? Aren’t doing what, exactly? Talk to me when you’ve got a clear solution, wise ass.” The upshot is clear: pace Held, Isaacs, and others, it is highly doubtful that we can simply scale up from the cases on which they focus, to the far more complex situations, such as climate change and global poverty, that they also claim to be offering resources for addressing.Two lines of response are available here. First of all, those who remain sympathetic to the received way of thinking about responsibility for collective inaction might reject my description of the New York Four’s predicament. In place of “The Inverted Finale,” they might generate another thought experiment that makes Jerry’s relationship to climate change seem a lot more like his relationship to a carjacking (the victims would be elsewhere, completely powerless; there would be no systemic dimensions to the problem; Jerry and friends would somehow be standing by, innocently, with no stake in the situation; and so forth). This would show that the types of problems I claim fall outside of the Seinfeld paradigm can be made to fit—or, at least, that specific aspects of those problems can be ignored for simplicity’s sake. In that case, perhaps the New York Four are not off the hook for their collective inaction after ah.
I find this response deeply unsatisfying. For one, I take it that an account of collective responsibility will only be useful to the extent that it helps us deal with the full range of problems that call for coordinated responses. Problems superficially, inaccurately, or otherwise falsely described, cannot be collectively dealt with, so our accounts need to approach the characterization of situations in an empirically rigorous way.
Given that my description of the New York Four’s predicament accurately captures some of its more salient features, and also seems applicable to several systemic problems other than those mentioned here, it stands to reason that situations of these types cannot be forced to fit the Seinfeld mold without considerable distortion. Unless it can be shown that situations with these features either do not or could not arise or are so rare as to be unworthy of mention, it will be difficult to find promise in the received approach.Second, those still determined to take up Held’s gambit might simply bite the bullet. They could accept that there is nothing strange about the cop’s readiness to excuse the New York Four, insisting instead that it is Newman’s frustration that cries out for justification. After all, there has to be a limit to the situations that a loosely structured group can be held morally responsible for failing to address, and it makes sense to draw the line at cases where there is no clear picture of what collective action would effectively address the concern. If the boundaries of collective responsibility ought to be drawn elsewhere, then a case to that effect needs to be made. Otherwise we are just trading intuitions and are unlikely to get very far.
This response fares no better. As I point out elsewhere (Doan 2016), the burden of proof lies with those who favor Held’s knowledge condition, for that condition expresses a substantive view about the circumstances under which we should see ourselves and others as sharing responsibility for working together to address impending crises and catastrophes, not to mention many already present disasters. Yet it is hardly self-evident and has yet to be defended. So, an argument is owed in defense of the above-mentioned presumptions about the bounded nature of collective responsibility, and about the precise location of those boundaries.
It may make sense to draw a boundary in the place Held proposes. But I suspect that is only if we have already joined her in adopting a peculiarly juridical frame of mind.
Although Held is concerned with questions of moral responsibility, she does invite us to consider such questions from the peculiar vantage of a judge or juror, reducing collective responsibility to collective liability and relying on a legal fiction for the sake of adjudication. But I doubt that we need to think like a state official to hold ourselves and others accountable for what we collectively fail to do (see Doan 2016;Young 2011). If adopting a juridical approach means we can no longer have meaningful conversations about our shared responsibility for addressing seemingly intractable systemic problems, then that is an approach to be avoided, not embraced.Furthermore, I take it that part of the point of the practice of holding ourselves and others accountable for our collective inaction is to encourage each other to come together, get organized, and do what is required of us to reduce the amount of harm and injustice in the world. If we can only justifiably hold one another accountable when a clear solution has already “come into focus,” then what are we to do about those problems that have no obvious, readymade solutions? How are we to handle those situations where it would be flatly unreasonable to expect the emergence of a single collective action that is perfectly “clear” to and “clearly favorable” for all involved? What about those situations where the people and institutions we have grown accustomed to looking to for answers either have none to share, or none at all? Here the received view is curiously silent.
Whereas it may seem inconsequential to draw a line around those situations we are already equipped to address with considerable confidence, the problems that make the New York Four weary are not so easily dismissed. Of course, the interrelated problems of climate change, ecological degradation, and global poverty do not suddenly resolve themselves when the cop refuses to make an arrest. Under these circumstances, what relief is there in saying to one another, “Well, at least we’re off the hook”? Unless we find meaningful ways to hold ourselves and others accountable for coming together to address especially challenging problems in spite of our shared not knowing how to go on, we will be left without a valuable tool for protecting what matters.
In summary, the received approach to thinking about responsibility for collective inaction excludes from consideration a range of ecological and social problems that clearly call for coordinated responses, yet have no obvious, readymade solutions. Defenders of this approach must either distort such problems in ways that preclude the development of appropriate solutions, just to make assignments of responsibility intelligible, or else admit that unorganized groups bear no responsibility whatsoever for activating themselves. Neither option is acceptable.
One notable consequence of sidestepping systemic problems in general—and problems that existing institutions and practices are incapable of solving, in particular—is that the received approach ignores and renders irrelevant the epistemic agency and creativity of ordinary people. Suppose that the only problems loosely structured groups are collectively obligated to address are those for which clear collective action solutions have already, somehow, “come into focus.” Oddly enough, we would never bear any responsibility for collectively analyzing especially complex, seemingly insoluble problems, even those we have a hand in creating and are harmed by; for cultivating each other’s capacities to imagine new strategies; or for engaging in ongoing processes of collective learning, experimenting with, and revising those strategies over time. Some of us would probably find ourselves waiting around for others to dream up solutions, leaning on specialized institutions and authorities. Others would hope for sudden flashes of insight—flashes that are unlikely to ever come. Never calling upon one another to think for ourselves, our collective problem-solving capacities would likely atrophy from lack of use. Yet the problems would remain, growing worse all the while.
Instead of rendering the epistemic agency of ordinary people irrelevant, in the final section of this chapter I suggest that the production of new questions, ideas, and knowledge in and through collective struggle ought to be at the very center of future inquiry into collective responsibility. Rather than relying on thought experiments, I turn to a concrete case of people coming to each other’s aid, exhibiting their collective brilliance under extraordinarily trying circumstances. I explore this case at some length, not to pump the reader’s moral intuitions, or to defend an alternate set of criteria for collective liability, but in order to bring to the fore certain questions about collective responsibility that would otherwise go unasked.
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